


nothing matters, everything matters

by xxSteggie



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Gen, a Bad One at that but, shrug emoji, this is a character study basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7849171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxSteggie/pseuds/xxSteggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha stares out the window. Waiting. For him. For either him. She doesn’t care at this point. Maybe she never did. But she wants someone, anyone, to come up to the door and knock and come in and hold her and tell her that it will all be okay because God knows she can’t convince herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing matters, everything matters

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: "eventually... you just move on"  
> requested by: jesse/@taulorswifts on tumblr!!  
> trigger warnings: mention of nat's suicide attempt, anxiety, dissociation

Natasha stares out the window. Waiting. For _him_. For either _him_. She doesn’t care at this point. Maybe she never did. But she wants someone, _anyone_ , to come up to the door and knock and come in and hold her and tell her that it will all be okay because God knows she can’t convince herself.

But that won’t happen.

Her eyes are heavy and she is fatigued. She needs to rest, to go somewhere else, to be able to just _not think_. But no matter how hard she tries, she cannot sleep. She cannot weep. She cannot do anything but just _stare_. It's like she isn't even herself. It's like she is someone else, watching her. She breathes but she doesn't really breathe. She blinks, but she doesn't really blink. She is on auto-pilot. She is a ghost, watching herself. She is a ghost and she is haunting herself, haunting her own family and haunting her own thoughts.

She sits like that for a while.

Eventually, she comes back. She blinks a few times, one right after the other, reminding herself that she can feel and that she is alive and that even though she might not feel okay her body is. But each time she blinks it feels like her eyes might never open again.

Maybe that would be a good thing.

She wants to do more. She wants to be able to _move_ , to do _something_ , to tell Sonya that she's sorry, to tell Marya that she loves her, to do anything but stop staring. She wants…

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know at all.

She tries not to reflect on the past three days. She fails, and quite frankly, she honestly can’t believe everything that has happened. How did it go so far? She isn’t sure. She hasn’t been sure of anything in a long time.

Except that she is. She is sure that she never meant to fall for Anatole (if she even did). She is sure that she never meant to fall for Helene’s seduction (but who wouldn’t?). She is sure that she never meant to go to the ball (and maybe if she hadn’t it would not have gone any further). She is sure that she never meant to be so frightened (but he was so much larger than she was). She is sure that she hadn’t meant to get the letter (or to respond). She is sure that she never meant to refuse Andrey (after all, he was always there for her. Why did she do it? Stupid, _stupid_ —).

Maybe if she had been a little more brave to just say what she had wanted to. Maybe if she hadn’t worn her best dress to the opera. Yes, that was it. That _had_ to be it. She wanted—needed? —the attention but it was too much, _far_ too much. It was her fault, her fault, her _fault_ —

Except it wasn’t. It wasn't her fault at all. Maybe if Sonya had kept her stupid _fucking_ mouth shut and maybe if Andrey hadn’t gone to war in _the god damn first place_ and maybe if Andrey’s family hadn’t hated her for _no reason_ and maybe if Anatole had just gotten the hint and maybe if he had just openly asked for her hand and maybe if Helene hadn’t been so attractive and maybe if someone would just come and _help her and maybe she was too naive and she was the one who fell for it and she was the one who decided to tell Sonya and she was the one who decided to go to the ball and to say yes to the letter and oh God it really is her fault her fault her fault her fault_ —

She stops herself.

Her thoughts are jumbled in her head. It's like static. She is breathing too fast and her heart feels like it's going to explode out of her chest from the rate that it's beating at. It's hard to see and it's hard to stop shaking and it's hard to breathe but then again it's hard to even exist when everything seems to be going against you.

And to Natasha, it feels like everything is.

She takes a deep breath. In for four, hold it, and out for seven. In. Hold. And out.

She doesn’t care anymore. All is over for her.

Eventually, you just move on, she supposes.

She doesn't care anymore.

All is over.

All over.

All. Over.

She goes to the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> natasha has bpd and anxiety sorry i don't make the rules
> 
> come yell with me on tumblr!!! @ghostquartet


End file.
